Lost July: Between The Candle And The Star

[whatevermaycome]

Caravans have begun arriving, alongside the ones trying to leave. Plant cultists by the rumors (and occasional marks and eager preaching), come to by their words try to help fix whatever's gone wrong with the alternating cities and try to bring salvation to their tormented populaces. They seem like eager, friendly folk for the most part, bringing food and water and tents.

Some of them seem a little too cold, a little too well armed, to be peaceful and well meaning priests, priestesses and clerics. They watch the cities and say nothing.

It's early morning, with only one sun up and the other yet to rise, when the area designated Lost July is rocked by an explosion felt for iles in all directions, the teeth-grinding hum of power cutting off.

Those that had the dubious luck to be awake at that moment report JuLai had been mostly present at the time, translucently crouched over the gaping chasm in the ground like a broken-backed worm before every light in the city had flared blinding pale violet and the entire thing, broken ship and all had disintegrated into a shower of glass, metal and distant, terrified screams as felt as they are heard.

And July's adobe and scrap buildings took its place. No hole, no ruins, just an intact and rather bewildered city left behind.

An entire bus full of the cultists are preparing to leave for July, unpacking most everything they can from the vehicle, which seems to have a fair bit of tech it shouldn't have for simple people transport. The sense of gathering energy begins again, slow but noticeable, a dull and muted thing.

Comments

Intercession: The Cultists

[whatevermaycome]

They're eager to get going, these plant worshipers. There's a prayer going on the side of the bus by a refined-looking woman of violently red hair and passionate words, asking for the intervention of the Powers That Be (namely, the plants) in aiding them rescue both the humans of July and the trapped plants there.

Others are busy gutting the bus of seats and putting down blankets and padding instead.

A few stand at a bit of a distance, watching the horizon. There's no doubt they're mobilizing, but how many people do they think they can save with just one bus?

driving in from december

[louboutinjudas]

[ It's been a long goddamn trip. Wolfwood's leg hurts like a sonofabitch,-- isn't healing nearly fast enough -- and being stuck in the car with Razlo for as long as they were was about to make him do something stupid. But Livio came back, eventually, and wasn't that a hell of a thing to see. He's got so damn many questions that he'll eventually need answers too, but as they approach Lost July, there's lights in the distance that shouldn't be there.

There's a city in the distance that shouldn't be there.

He can't see Rem's station -- the first sun's up and the second's just at the horizon, but coming from this direction there's a whole goddamn city between them and her -- and he doesn't know the city. That's not his JuLai -- he's only ever seen July as a pile of rubble. ]

What the fuck is that?

[graveresemblance]

[he's used to most people disliking Razlo, but he also has the feeling something. Bad happened while he was preoccupied within his own brain. When he does return Wolfwood is still hurt, the wound not healing as fast as it should be..so Livio's pretty preoccupied--

But you know, some new things happen, as they do. Livio actually stops the car so he can stop and gape approproately]

That's...that's July. And impossible?

[louboutinjudas]

[ No, stopping a ways out from the magical city is probably a really good idea ]

That's July?

[ That's what that rubble pile used to look like? Wolfwood takes a second to stare himself, but then he's tapping at Livio's shoulder -- c'mon, drive. To the left, over there. ]

Let's get around to the other side. There's some folks I want to check on.

[ They better be okay, Rem and the kids. ]

[mercifullyheavy]

To be honest, there was a part of Wolfwood that was a little surprised at how fast Blondie had gotten over his anxiety over coming out this way, at least as much as it took for him to decide he was ready to come out. But if it was for his Mom, yeah. That made sense, and like Hell if he was going to tell him 'no,' even if it meant he had to drop him off an ile or so out from her station and wait so he wouldn't upset the kid. If that was what it took to make up for that entire mess, then he would do it.

But the closer they got to where the lost city was supposed to be, the stranger the horizon line looked; that didn't look like any city he was used to seeing. It was too vertical, and the sight of what became increasingly discernable as swarms of people milling about in the distance made his suspicions only worse.

"'Ey, Blondie. Heads up. Gotta crowd up ahead, might be bandits." Because leave it to bandits to set up in the ruins of Lost July, and if they were there, then did that mean they had gotten to Rem's place? He reached back, around Vash, to snap loose the straps keeping the Punisher held down, steering the bike one-handed as he slowed down and took a quick look around, hoping for any sort of cover they might make it to before they were spotted. Unfortunately, a dune desert was just that; little more than endless iles and iles of sand.

But that concern quickly paled in comparison when, in a sudden flash, the entire city in front of them exploded, and he could feel and hear the shockwave even from here! Felt like he could hear screams, and wasn't that a sensation that rattled his teeth???

The shock of it was almost enough to make him lose control of the bike, though he was able to pull it to a safe stop after only a little wobbling.

"Wh-...The fuck was that...?" There, in place of the big, tall, shiny city that had been there a moment ago, stood a much more familiar-looking adobe city, low to the ground and spread wide, and on the outskirts, that crowd of people looked like they were...getting ready to go inside. "The fuck is happening???"

[tallredridinghood]

Heads up, Wolfwood said, and it made sense that he did not much remember the city he saw only for a little while, but Vash froze the moment his eyes alighted on it, stiffening against Wolfwood's back, and then the explosion made him give a helpless, mournful cry, nearly lost in the rev of the engine trying to be steadied by its driver, and once they were no longer in motion, he just slumped down, then got up and stood away from the comforting warmth of Wolfwood's anger.

He did not deserve it. He would never deserve it. He should never have presumed to reach for anything good.

"Something is not right." The adobe was foreign, almost soothing.

Almost.

"And it is way too close to where they all should be." He swallowed, lifting his chin even his shoulders were just as hunched as a moment before. "We should--" Vash swallowed.

"I should go see what is happening. And you should go warn the rest of them. You'd be faster alone on the bike."

Intercession: The Refugees

[whatevermaycome]

Having not come to a consensus about whether or not to return to July, those that had fled earlier had their morning breakfasts utterly disrupted by the explosion not long ago and have resumed the arguments, now with a frantic edge. They're ... ordinary people, there's no real obvious leader, no one who commands authority or experience, it's just frightened families scrambling to do ... something. Anything.

Breakfast, forgotten, smolders on the banked coals of the fire.

"What if July goes next?! We don't know how long they have! My parents are still in there!"

"We need to head to the nearest city and get help, not run off like sunaddled idiots and make things worse!"

"Nobody's coming, Jim! If they were coming they'd have been here by now, we're on our own!"

[nurturing]

Between caring for one very upset twin and checking on the sensors she put up all over the outskirts of the flickering city, Rem is stressed and worried. Whatever was going o with July was getting worse and worse, and last time she came to fix a sensor she noticed the growing crowd of refugees.

There's not much she can do for them, but she starts to pack gallons of water in her car for next time she goes over.

...except this time it isn't going to be for fixing a sensor and getting odd looks from the military. A desperately wished for signal appears on her data pad and Rem gasps. Nai. Nai was in the city? She had to check on that immediately!

Vash, though... he's finally asleep after having that stomach ache for a while, and isn't in any condition to take a ride up to the flickering city. Writing him a note that she's checking on a lead about Nai, she leaves it by his bed and then hops into the car.

Driving up to the refugee camp, she stops the vehicle and starts carrying out the water from the back. One thing at the time. She has to figure out a way how to get in there, after all.

"Is anyone hurt?"

[whatevermaycome]

Rem's been spotted before, she's working on those devices, and has long since been relegated to "not a threat" to pretty much everyone. The off chance that she was from July too and had just gotten out a bit earlier has kept her on their radar, so when she turns up again, this time with water, she's hailed in a fairly friendly manner by one of the people, a dusty woman who by the look of her spent a lot of time doing heavy lifting.

Tension is still in the air, stress and worry, but those are not things Rem is to blame for. "Not so far, we got out in time. You from July?"

The man earlier called Jim reorients promptly. She looked clean, pretty high class... she might be an escapee but honestly she looked more December City type to him. "If you need food, we've got some jerky and uh, dried beans, if you're not too picky. Hope you're ready to run."

[goldenglasses]

If he was being honest with himself, Vash had no intention of ever returning to July or JuLai or any July ever again. When he started to hear about the problems the city-- cities? Was having he couldn't ignore it.

When he arrived Vash decided to try to ignore the Plant Worshipers. He's met some... intense worshipers in the past and it's always unnerved him a little. Doing his best to lay low while in his red coat and spiky hair he quickly focuses on the people around the outskirt of the city.

"Don't panic. They're right, running off without a plan is going to cause more problems then help. Stay calm. We'll figure this out." He wants to do his best to try to calm the crowd.

[whatevermaycome]

The red coat and spiky hair would be a glaring tipoff to most people! It's so obvious when you know what to look for!

.. Except that insane bounty only got leveraged after July's destruction, and these people are disconnected from time. He's just oddly dressed, and otherwise unremarkable to the previously-led Julaian citizens. The cultists, busy with their bus, surely haven't taken notice of the angel amongst them.

And the people Vash have approached are oblivious to both his reputation and his nature. "Yeah? And what do you suggest we do??" How swiftly agitation can turn to anger, but nobody's pulling a gun, guns don't help right now. "Just sit here and wait for the city to disappear again?"

Intercession: The Nameless

[somatichybrid]

Not far at all from where both plant cultists and refugees scramble to do something about this turn of events, there's the man who is neither Vash nor Knives and is struggling to maintain a perfectly human looking form. It's hard, and the lengthy tattered cloak he wears obscures what's hardest to hide, but his attention is divided or he'd be able to succeed at it better. There's more limbs than he should have. Feathers here and there, the twitching bristle of nervous blades now and again.

He has a table, and a small set of devices on them, following the pattern of a blueprint nailed to the wood with a screwdriver. A few are done, several are in pieces. They look a bit like .. walkie-talkies, but the guts of machinery strewn about the table suggests they're a lot more complicated.

Nearby is one of the newly built sensor stations Rem had constructed, a thin cable running from it to a battered, dusty monitor under the table.

Nai's Location - JuLai

[whatevermaycome]

[OOC note: Nai only for now on this one, y'all are stuck outside.]


The plants had been asked to call Nai home, and so they did. The only problem is, Octovern isn't the only place where there's a whole lot of plants. He disappears from wherever he'd been before, no matter what he'd been doing, and reappears in what is almost certainly a containment room of some sort, massive and towering, lined wall to wall with neat, clean cylinders he will likely recognize as plant containers. Each one holds a legged sphere of a tightly coiled plant.

Not a single one shines a healthy blue. Most are some shade of violet deepening toward red, a handful red and being attended to by harried, gaunt looking humans who have the look of not eating or sleeping well for quite some time.

Nearest where Nai appears, a single plant has uncoiled to settle near the base of her cylinder and watch with wide, unblinking eyes, the webwork of glowing lines across her elongated form a vivid crimson. Though nothing is said, there is the sense that she is responsible for him being there and not where he was supposed to be. It won't be long before the human attendants realize they're not alone.

[ornamentals]

He wakes with a start, gasping softly at the feeling of cold tile pressed against his cheek. In the next moment, he realizes quickly that he isn't with Vash any longer, no familiar shift of roots moving or energy buzzing around him. No, there is a different thrum of energy here and as he lifts his head to scan the room, his eyes moving up and up to see almost endless containers of red sisters, a cold and heavy stone sinks to the pit of his stomach.

Red. Red. He's starting to hate the color.

Nai moves quickly to stand up, especially when he sees the humans hurrying, anxious energy evident even from across the room. He needed to escape, already looking for some kind of exit or a place he could stash himself away until he could slip out undetected. It's then that the unfurled sister catches his attention, her container sitting behind him. Instantly, Nai is at her side, palms pressed against the glass and eyes widened with barely contained panic. His heart is hammering hard inside his chest as he glances between her and the humans, throat tight. Such is his panic, he doesn't realize the soft lines of his own markings start to glow around his ears, instinct kicking in so close to his kin.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He speaks in the smallest whisper, lower lip shaking, and presses his forehead to the glass. He can't help her, nor does he have any idea why he's here now. All he can do is will through their connection his grief in his inability to do anything.

[whatevermaycome]

She seems ... strangely placid for their circumstances, raising one graceful, long-fingered hand to place against the glass, and leaning forward to press her forehead against it. Her wings cup slightly, as if by doing so she could cast a little shade, offer a little comfort. Such a lost, small little sibling, so afraid and worried.

calm

There's no words, exactly, those are foreign things that while she could understand them were hard to reproduce in kind, but she could do feeling, she could do images, and try for something more than that as best she can. It's very abstract.

safe, the comfort of a sturdy glass wall and warm water(a bulb (a bed))

tired

content

a sense of time (hours (days) sunrise and sunset), reassurance.

Soon. Safety soon.

The violets and reds remain, but she's not afraid.

Lost July - Livio

[whatevermaycome]

[By her wince, the woman thinks it's about some member of the cult or other, since the Guns are consummate specialists and professionals and they ... they're what's scrounged up for an emergency opportunity.]

We'll all do our best. Please, come with me. I'm Cassidy, just so you have something for the paperwork later. My partner's Butch, he just ducked in.

[And she's headed for her own bus now, clearly expecting the mammoth man to go along. July awaits!]

In our world, Butch and I, the names Doublefang and Punisher come with a certain reputation, and if you have ... business with anyone in specific, I won't stop you. Orders are order for all of us. But if you're not just passing through, it'd be a kindness to let your targets know. A couple of us have kin, we'd like to leave a letter.

[Business. Everyone knows what the Punisher does, and if he's now partnered with Doublefang.. well she knows they're all small-fry. Not worth the attention normally, but this isn't normal circumstances, and if their Master has decided afterwards all witnesses needed to be erased.. She's putting on a brave face, if orders come down, then that's how it has to be. Some might resist, but Cassidy won't.

Cultists. Isn't it great Livio doesn't have to deal with that level of brainwashing anymore?

There's someone already behind the driver's seat, a bald-headed man with a map of July plastered across the steering wheel. He's actually got a nametag, which neatly reads 'Jessie' pinned to his uniform, and the glance he gives Livio is appraising but not one of recognition.]

Ready to ride?

[graveresemblance]

[he wants to ask if she really thinks he does paperwork but..but these people are his enemies. they've never been his friends, never been friendly, even. terrified of him and his reputation and his teacher.

and this one is particularly smarter than he'd thought. smarter than him, certainly.]

...You can leave letters if you like, in any case. The rest is classified but. I'll do what I can.

[because these people aren't getting out of here alive. they know that, and that almost hurts more. he glances between this-- Jessie, and Cassidy, and nods grimly]

Let's do this.

[whatevermaycome]

[That it's faced with almost fearlessness, and still with determination to see their mission through.. it's almost too bad they've dedicated themselves to such a malevolent organization.]

...Good. Just. ..Good, it won't take long.

[When the time comes, nobody's going for paper yet, but there's certain to be some around. Livio is waved to one of the very few remaining seats, low slung and uncomfortable even for someone of normal size, and once he's settled onboard, either sitting or standing, the bus moves into gear.

The second bus is leaving as well, but it's taking a wider path than their straight-on approach, mindful of the fact that the road is a few years' worth of disrepair, the packed dirt gone sandy in places. July is ... painfully ordinary. It could be most other large cities, as they approach there's people going about their business, one very obviously a caravan of tomas laden with goods, their train master and guards watching the bus with thoughtful interest but nothing like alarm as it rumbles into the outskirts and towards more denser areas.

In fact, nobody seems alarmed at all. A few curious people watch them go past, but by and large they're content with what seems like utterly common every-day activities. There should be SOMETHING given it just suddenly appeared not long ago, shouldn't there? It's definitely confusing to the cultists, the driver slowing to avoid hitting anyone in the streets, Cassidy leaning out the broken window a little with a puzzled frown. They were expecting panic, violence, riots, but this is .. normal.]

Right. This might make things easier. Head for the factories. They won't be as peaceful on our next pass.

Lost JuLai .. eventually - Wolfwood

[whatevermaycome]

[The change in bearing is noticed, but perhaps they're just smart enough to not actually say anything about it. Everyone has their mission, it's time to go! That's the goal, anyway, Taylor still seems thoroughly pleased by his squashed hand, which is at least not bleeding everywhere but is rapidly turning interesting colors. No healing factor going on, it seems, just standard injury.]

If you don't already know we're not supposed to tell you. [Bron sounds apologetic, from just in front as he climbs aboard the bus and settles in the driver's seat. The interior's definitely been gutted to maximize space inside save for a single bench seat, including padding along the metal where the roof had been sheered off. If necessary, a whole lot of people, or a handful of plants in bulbs, could fit inside. A lone small dragonfly-like worm with distinctly green wings lands neatly on one cushioned edge of the roof.] Different timelines and worlds, and all that. But your circumstances allow for a message later on, if everything goes well.

[Taylor is still working out how to get on the bus when the handle is on the side his hand's broken on. He actually tries it at first before it seems to click that he can't really grab things with that one anymore. It's a blessing perhaps given Wolfwood's state of injury that these two don't really seem to be the honed, trained killers sort. They might have smelled out weakness.] Did you see that? Not even a little bit of strain! Just, crunch! Your friend's just as remarkable as the legends claim if I do say so myself, sir. You hear rumors, but it's nothing like experiencing--

Taylor, other hand.

[A quiet 'oh' and he manages to pull himself up the right way.]

[louboutinjudas]

[ He's friendly with his buddy, and not friendly with little people. Not much to be surprised by there.

What is surprising is that, after watching one of these idiots fanboy Livio to the point of crippling himself for the remainder of the mission, they still won't tell him who they are. Sure, in his world he's just a gun -- even less than that, now that succeeding in his mission meant that Lord Almightly Millions Knives burned up in orbit. But here? The Punisher in this world killed Chapel, and that mess in Octovern means that this world's Knives is out of the picture too. So who could possibly outrank him now?

Assuming these guys are from this world, that is.

Ignoring Numb -- who he's mentally renamed as Lefty -- Wolfwood hoists Punisher up and through the open roof and climbs inside, taking a spot for himself right behind the driver. A flicker of green catches his eye, and he stares hard at the worm that's made itself at home just above his head. If he could be sure of grabbing it from here, he would, but his leg's already protesting the use he's giving it, and all he's done is walk. The pain he can ignore, but if the damn thing decides to go sideways on him, then things are going to get a lot more complicated.

So the bug -- and whoever might be watching through its eyes -- gets flipped off instead, and Wolfwood leans back against the side of the bus, surreptitiously taking some of the weight off his broken leg. ]

You wanna tell me how you've got a message for me, when nobody knew I was heading this way?

[ He doesn't really expect that a growling voice and looming will intimidate a guy who cheered on his buddy's mangling, but they've all got a part to play, right? ]

[whatevermaycome]

[The bus is taken out of idle and turned slowly towards July. Wider yet, actually, it looks like based on their trajectory the goal is going to be going wide around the city. Sensible if both groups are going in, different angles of attack would mean harder for locals to mount a defense.]

Oh, that we can tell you. Every single Gung Ho Gun has a potential message, assuming we can recognize them. If in some universe say, Ninelives appears but they're all cats for some reason, we likely won't know they're supposed to get one.

[How many people were allowed to know Ninelives were separate beings in there? Bron doesn't talk like it's a secret, but there are no ears to overhear here. The worm seems content to settle there and clean itself with precise little mandibles, as if being flipped off is perfectly ordinary. Maybe it is, and whoever's watching fully expects it, it's not like a lone bug can return the gesture. As the bus rumbles into the dust and sand, a second worm buzzes close and lands to go for a ride as well. This one's blue.

Taylor settles himself on the floor, and actually has the wit to unroll a long spool of bandage from under the seat and begin carefully wrapping his mangled hand, still looking pleased as punch.]

But we were told not everyone is going to be interested in returning to the fold. A different world means different loyalties, but they'll get the chance. [Bron glances back at Wolfwood before putting eyes back on the rocky ground.] Just like you will, if you want it.

[Satisfied with his bandage job, Taylor settles back to do very little besides get comfortable.] Suppose now is as good a time as any to say we're not really here to evacuate anyone, but that's probably not a surprise. We're here to find out why it's happening and if we can, put a stop to it. The other team's rescue mission is kind of pointless, there's a few dozen plants in the JuLai I grew up with, that one out there's probably the same.

[Wow, that almost sounds intelligent. Maybe he's not completely brainfried.]

Lost July - Vash the Stampeeeeeed

[whatevermaycome]

As walks go, it's ... painfully, peculiarly uneventful.

There should be something going on that's visibly a sign of what just happened, shouldn't there? Shouldn't there be debris if a city just blew itself apart? But there's nothing. The small white brick buildings sit comfortably in their place, distant laundry fluttering in the faint dry breeze, the sound of a living, thriving city easily caught on the wind as Vash leaves the refugees and cultists behind, the rumble of vehicles fading.

It's not the city he knows. There's no vast shining skyscrapers here, no ordered and organized military police, but it somehow looks more ... lived in, worn by time and countless hands and generations, built from the very ground and whatever could be salvaged from the ship that gave it life. It's not polished or refined, but it's sturdy and comfortable. There's no tension in the air.

But shouldn't there be?

As he approaches, occasionally someone's leaving. They don't look rushed or alarmed or concerned, one man leading a pair of pack tomases, another riding a beat up mo-ped with a rifle slung over her shoulder, and although Vash is given a nod or a wave, but neither stop to say hello or seem panicked by his appearance.

The terror of the typhoon that walks like a man has not yet darkened July's countless doorsteps.

But it does mean the closer he gets to the city the more he has to watch his step. There's traffic, mostly on foot, some in vehicles or tomas-pulled wagons, all of it going somewhere and not particularly concerned if someone's in the way. People in July live close together, and it is a densely populated place, hundreds of people starting their morning routines. They all seem completely oblivious to what had happened not so long ago.

By the signs dangling from buildings and street corners, the police station of all things is further up the road, but there's many other potential destinations, from restaurants to small shops to even the distant factory sector where what should have been the song of countless plants working away at their programmed duties is only the faint fog of weary unhappiness. Felt at this distance, it's a faint thing. ALl of these can even be forsaken for simply grabbing the nearest human going about their morning.

Lost JuLai - Wolfwood, Flavored With Max

[whatevermaycome]

Nobody there prevents Wolfwood from leaving. Not Vash, headed towards the city on foot, not the refugees splitting off their own ways further away, nor the cultists, busy working their group into two separate sections.

It's those other groups that may catch his attention before he gets too far away. Those cultists seem to be leaving with a man who ... looks rather like Wolfwood himself, actually, with a large and suspicious cross, the other with another familiar, massive man with a distinctive pair of guns. The former's pulling wide around the city and not at all moving as fast as the latter, as if delaying.

And from the refugee camp, one ramshackle truck is tearing for the city with a woman in it with long black hair and technology in hand that this world often can't match; they'll be hard to catch up with soon. How much is Wolfwood paying attention to his surroundings..? Hopefully a fair bit, as the very person he intended to check in on is currently blasting across the sand in a piece of shit pickup with a stranger.

[mercifullyheavy]

Truth be told, if he hadn't been so deep in his own head as the vehicles drove by, he would have noticed Nico's face on that bus, and it would have derailed him just as hard as finding JuLai on the horizon had. It was always in the back of his mind, trying to find the other Him, the doppleganger he'd unwittingly begun seeing as an annoying little brother after two years on the road with him.

But he was too lost in his own thoughts to notice him, and it wasn't until some small glimmer of recognition caught his eye when that second bus rolled by with another Little Brother riding on top that he managed to begin to take notice of the comings and goings of the vehicles around him. Not fast enough to fully register Livio on that bus, no, but it was enough that when that ramshackle truck sped by, the glimpse he caught of the woman in the passenger seat was enough to trigger flashbacks to the memories that had been shoved into his head when Vash had panicked, days ago. That was what made him slam on the brakes of the bike, dragging her to a sudden stop in the sand as he looked back in obvious, confused shock.

It was disorienting, though, trying to make sense of those memories, some over a century old, seen from maybe one but also possibly both of the other men (though it was difficult to tell,) and others much newer and laced with such intense emotion that, even though he hadn't gotten a proper glimpse of that same woman in Vash's mind's-eye, he just knew. Even though it left him struggling to decide what to do, worried that he was mistaken and that following that truck was the wrong choice to make.

But the risk that it was her was bad enough that finally, he couldn't ignore the possibility, and with a cut off snarl of a curse, he spun Angelina back around and began racing after the truck as fast as he could go.

"Rem! Wait, Rem! Stop!" Borrowing a name he'd formerly only ever heard when Vash was trapped in a nightmare in the middle of the night, hoping despite knowing it was probably a futile effort with the way the driver of the truck was speeding off at such a reckless speed, he did his best to pull up beside the truck's passenger door, only to watch it disappear into the city before he had a chance to catch up.

That was fine. The truck may have been too far ahead to reach it before it entered the city, but the motorcycle would be far more maneuverable on the narrow city streets. He had no intention of slowing down before he was blasting past the armed barricades keeping watch at the edges of the city's entrance. He'd busted down the Ark's doors with her; a few light barriers weren't going to be any problem for Angelina II.

[whatevermaycome]

There isn't a soul in sight by the time Wolfwood arrives on his bike.

It's obvious those barriers are meant to be manned, there's even half a sandwich sitting on the hubcap of one of the well-armored vehicle simply left idling in the street. The kitbashed truck, seemingly just minutes ago transporting Rem and her determined driver, sits parked off to one side, the driver as missing as Rem is. Nothing stops him from crashing through the barriers, or going around them, or between them. There's nobody to yell, nobody to try to warn him off. Nobody to suggest the sky probably shouldn't look that gradually growing stormy red. A feeling of weight gathers as slowly as the tumult in the sky, a pressing thing like the wake of an approaching sandstorm.

There are people in the buldings, by the shadows behind the glass here and there. But not a soul is on the streets.

Where she went is a very good question. There's a lot of possibilities, from the bowels of the ship JuLai is built on to further up and further in along the roads, but there's no sound of footsteps to tell him which way to go, no obvious trail to follow. The streetlamps continue to glow, neon signs flicker, advertisements continue to be heard distantly over hidden speakers as the once blue sky darkens.